


There's Always Next Year

by quartetship



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 23:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1323901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's not just a game - it's the Super Bowl!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's Always Next Year

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a Super Bowl request by wonderful tumblr user nhaingen. (I swear I'll learn how to make links on this site eventually!)
> 
> Set at basically any age/time you'd like it to be, since SP has a free-floating canon timeline. (Underage drinking present if you choose to read them as less than 21!)
> 
> \--

"Stan? Stan, are you still – Stan, what the hell?"

Stan was lying face down in the neighbor’s dead, muddy flower bed, dusted with the wet snow that had been falling that night. At first sight, he seemed completely still. Kyle called his name a few more times as he carefully climbed over the wooden fence between the houses. Getting closer to where Stan was collapsed, Kyle could see him shivering, and hear what sounded like muffled crying. He crouched beside Stan and tugged at his shoulder, rolling him over.

"Stan, why are – where’s your coat, dumbass?" Kyle wiped the dirt from Stan’s face. "I thought you were going to the bathroom. Why the hell are you out here?"

He put an arm behind Stan’s shoulders and pulled; Stan groaned as he sat up, letting his head roll backward over Kyle’s arm. His breath smelled strongly of the beer they’d been drinking, and Kyle noticed three empty bottles scattered across the damp ground beneath them. Stan coughed and snorted, lazily wiped at his face and shook with another wave of choked crying.

"They barely even scored" he croaked. "One touchdown, Kyle. One." He sat up further, leaning forward as he sobbed. "It’s just embarrassing!"

"I know it sucks, dude. But it’s just a game. Besides —"

"It’s not just any game, Kyle. It’s the Super Bowl. They haven’t been in so long, and… damn it. They barely even showed up! Fucking Peyton Manning, I swear to God.” He threw himself backward into the dirt.

"Well, listen. The guys are saying they wanna go grab McDonald’s. Why don’t you come back inside and clean up some, and I’ll —"

"Don’t wanna" he mumbled. Kyle pulled on his arm in protest, but Stan was dead weight against him. He sighed and let go as he stood.

"You don’t have to come with us. But at least come back inside. It’s freezing out here, and you’re not even wearing a coat."

Stan shook his head. “Not coming in. Not right now.” He laid an arm over his eyes.

"Fine, stay out here and freeze." Kyle said flatly. He turned to leave, but stopped before stepping back over the neighbor’s fence again. "What do you want from McDonald’s?"

Stan held up four fingers, mumbled something about sweet and sour sauce and ‘orange stuff’ to drink, and then draped his arm back across his face. Kyle sighed again – quieter this time – and nodded. He slipped out of his coat and hat and walked back over to where Stan was wallowing. He pulled the hat down over Stan’s wet hair, and laid the coat over him like a blanket. He kissed the top of his hat clad head and patted him a few times.

"There’s always next year."


End file.
